


if it is not alright now, then now is not the end

by armyofbees



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, But he redeems himself, Character Death, Dreamsharing, Eleanor Ball Laurens' Actual A+ Parenting, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, I promise, I think they do, In the Beginning, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, Language Barrier, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, Soulmates, Suicide, because the boys have tragic backstories, idk do corpses count, it's just, james may not seem like the best brother at first, jesus christ that looks like a lot more than it is, lafayette really loves america, like he is very into america, once again because of tragic backstory, the boys have a lot of family, very
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 12:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11230671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armyofbees/pseuds/armyofbees
Summary: Hercules' parents can dream together. That means they'll love each other forever. He knows that.John's pretty sure that his soulmates should not be his soulmates. After all, boys aren't supposed to like boys, let alone three boys at once.People around Alexander keep dropping like flies. He thinks he might be the only person in the world who's glad that his soulmates aren't with him.Lafayette wants to move to America—the land of the free, where his soulmates live.--A series of vignettes throughout four people's lives, as they grow into themselves and their soulmates.





	if it is not alright now, then now is not the end

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of continuity, let me set a few things out.
> 
> 1\. The Rev Set have their historical birthdays, but I shortened the age gaps. Hercules' birthday is September 25th 1994, John's is October 28th 1996, Alexander's is January 11th 1997, and Lafayette's is September 6th 1997. That's not super important to the story, but if you're interested in that kind of thing from a writer's perspective, there you go.
> 
> 2\. Another writer's thing: Ireland is 5 hours ahead of South Carolina and 1 hour behind France. France is 1 hour ahead of Ireland and 6 hours ahead of SC. That's why sleeping schedules are mentioned so frequently. Time zones are fun.
> 
> 3\. Essentially, in this universe, soulmates can share dreams. They can't control it, but they can see each other and discuss whatever. There are almost no other restrictions.
> 
> I think that's it. Enjoy!

_i. November 2003_

Hercules is nine when he has his first dream.

He knows all about the dreams—everyone talks about them. His parents tell him every time he asks, “Your mommy and daddy can dream together, Hercules! That means we’re meant to be in love forever.” He believes it, too, because they only fight a few times a month, and they still live together. One of his school friends’ parents don’t live together, and he won’t say, but Hercules knows that it’s because they can’t dream together.

He’s excited for his first dream. His parents say they could start at any point in his life, but he’s got a feeling in his toes that they’ll start real soon.

It’s a Friday when it comes. Hercules does his normal thing before bed, brushes his teeth, says goodnight to Hugh, says his prayers. Only when he closes his eyes does he notice things start to change.

He dreams a lot. His parents say he has an active imagination. No matter how weird those dreams get, they’re _nothing_ like this one. It has a feeling of _rightness,_ like it belongs. Like he belongs.

Everything is sort of hazy, except for the boy in front of him. He’s got curly hair and freckles all over his face. Hercules has never seen him before in his life.

“Who are you?” he asks.

After studying him closely for a few seconds, the boy says carefully, “My name is John Laurens. Who’re you?” It sounds like he’s said it a lot, and Hercules doesn’t know why that makes him sad.

“Hercules,” Hercules says. “Hercules Mulligan.”

“Hercules Mulligan,” John repeats, slowly. “You’ve got an accent.” It sounds a little like an accusation.

“Well, so do you,” Hercules replies, and he doesn’t know why he’s so annoyed. There’s a long pause after that, during which the two boys just sort of stare at each other. When he can’t take it anymore, Hercules blurts, “I like your freckles.” He stops abruptly and puts a hand over his mouth. “I mean—”

“Thanks,” John interrupts, still watching him closely. “Hey, you know what this means, right?”

“What _what_ means?”

“This,” John points between them. “Dream sharing.”

“Oh.” Hercules’ eyebrows scrunch. “I mean, yeah, but no way. Right? ’Cause we’re…”

John pauses. “I—” He breaks off. He looks behind him, like someone’s calling his name. Hercules can’t hear anything. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later, Hercules.”

“Bye,” Hercules says.

 

_ii. March 2004_

John doesn’t tell anyone about Hercules for months.

He stays awake as long as he can after they first meet, because if he sleeps again, he might see him again. And he’s terrified.

He’s only eight, but he knows that it’s _wrong._ He knows that it’s wrong to be sharing dreams with Hercules in the first place, but it’s worse when he thinks that Hercules has pretty eyes and hair and skin.

Staying awake doesn’t work—he falls asleep in the car on the second day, but this time it isn’t Hercules.

The dream’s got the same feeling as before, but the boy standing in front of him has lighter skin and bigger hair. John mentally chides himself for thinking that he’s still as pretty as Hercules.

“You’re not Hercules,” is the first thing that comes out of John’s mouth.

The boy stares at him. _“Quoi?”_

John stares back. He doesn’t think that that was English. It sounded like gibberish to him. “What did you just say?”

 _“Quoi?”_ the boy repeats, and John just shakes his head.

He puts his hands up and says, “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

The boy shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, but someone’s shaking John’s shoulder, and suddenly he’s waking up to his mother peering down at him. He’s still in the car.

He doesn’t tell her about his dream.

John doesn’t have any more dreams until March. He’s given up trying to avoid sleep, and so far, he hasn’t seen either Hercules or the other boy. He can almost forget about them, but he doesn’t think he wants to. He drifts off one night to a familiar feeling that makes his stomach turn. He closes his eyes and prays that he wakes up soon.

When he opens his eyes, it’s neither Hercules nor the other boy standing there. This boy has black hair and caramel skin and a scratch on his cheek.

“Are you okay?” John asks, hand coming up to touch his own cheek, like he could feel the scratch there.

The boy looks at him, surprised. “Yeah,” he says, and John thinks it sounds too quick. Like he’s lying. John doesn’t like lying. “Who are you?”

“My name is John Laurens,” John recites, and offers a hand. Just like his father taught him. “What’s yours?”

“My name is Alexander Hamilton,” the boy says, and just stares at John’s hand suspiciously until he lets it fall to his side.

John stops to think for a moment before asking, “So have you seen the others, too?”

“The others?”

“You know,” John says, even though it’s clear that Alexander does _not_ know. John prays that he’s not the only one who has three people in his dreams. “Hercules and that other one who doesn’t speak English, I don’t think.”

Alexander shakes his head. “No, sorry. You share dreams with two other people?”

John shrugs. “I guess. I dunno what’s up with it, either.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if I see them around,” Alexander tells him, and gives him a crooked smile. John feels himself returning it, even if he doesn’t do it on purpose.

When he wakes up, he’s still smiling. His mom pokes her head into his room and gives him a curious look. “Jacky, did you sleep well?”

He nods his head and hums happily. “I met one of the other boys I share dreams with,” he says, before he can really think about what he’s saying.

His mom looks suddenly like she’s watching one of her sad soap operas that she likes to have on while she’s making dinner. She comes and sits on the bed next to him and takes his hand. “Why don’t you tell me about these… boys?” He doesn’t know why she waits for so long before saying it, but it makes him feel a little sick.

“Well,” he says slowly, “one of them’s named Hercules and he’s got really pretty skin and a weird accent. One of them’s named Alexander and I’m a little worried about him because he had a scratch on his face, but he seems smart, so I think he’ll be okay. The last one I don’t think speaks English, but he’s got real nice hair. I don’t know his name because he only said ‘kwah’ the whole time we talked.”

“Kwah?” his mother repeats, then bites her lip. “I’ll look into it, but you have to promise me something, okay Jacky?”

John nods seriously. His mom never talks this seriously, unless it’s _really_ important.

“You can’t tell your dad about this, okay? Can you do that for me? It’s like a game, yeah?”

John nods and scrunches up his nose. “Is this ’cause dad says that boys aren’t supposed to like boys?”

His mom looks real sad, and she nods. “Yeah. But I want you to know that no matter what he says, that’s one thing he’s wrong about. You can like whoever you want, as long as they make you as happy as this. Got it?”

John nods and salutes. “Got it!”

His mom musses his hair and smiles. It still looks a little off, but he’s distracted when she says, “Pancakes!”

 

_iii. August 2004_

Alexander sees John a few times, but he still hasn’t met either of the other boys that John talks about. It’s when he falls asleep at three in the afternoon on a particularly hot summer day that he gets those tingles in his stomach.

His dream opens to a boy with tightly curled hair and soft eyes. “Who are you?” he asks, in French.

“My name is Alexander Hamilton,” Alexander responds in kind. “Are you Hercules?”

The boy’s brow furrows. “Is that the spotted one or the other one?”

“The other one,” Alexander says. “John is the spotted one. He has a funny accent. What’s your name?”

“Gilbert,” the boy says, smiling as bright as the sun. “I don’t think John or Hercules speak French.” He frowns. “I can’t talk to them.”

“Well, I’ve never met Hercules,” Alexander confesses, “but John’s taking French classes now. His mom helped him get into them.” Gilbert still looks upset. “Maybe you could learn English,” Alexander suggests. “That way, Hercules will know what you’re saying, too.”

Gilbert’s smile comes back. “I can ask.”

“So you live in France?” Alexander asks. He’s never met anyone who doesn’t live on Nevis except for John.

Gilbert nods. “Do you live in France, too?”

“Oh, no,” Alexander bites his lip, thinking. “I live on a… on a tiny island, just below America.”

Gilbert’s eyes light up. _“America!”_ he breathes, with reverence. “I’ve heard of America. I think I’d like to live there. It’s the—the land of being free, right?”

“I think so,” Alexander says. “I’ve never been, but I’ve read about it a little. It seems cool.”

“I’m going to live in America when I’m older,” Gilbert declares, and gives Alexander a smile that looks like trouble. “I’ll see you there?”

Alexander returns the smile. “Yeah.”

 

_iv. October 2007_

It’s only after he thinks he’s gotten a decent handle on the language that Gilbert tries to talk to Hercules. He doesn’t want to mess up Hercules’ image of him. (Like his grandma always says, impressions are the most important part. He can’t afford to screw this up.)

He hasn’t seen much of John, but he’s been talking to Alexander, and Alexander has been helping with his English. When he falls asleep to the strange tingling feeling, he feels a nervous chord strike in his chest. He tries to silence it.

Gilbert opens his eyes to see Hercules standing in front of him. He has to be thirteen by now, since Gilbert’s ten, and Hercules is a few years older than him. “Hi,” he says, a little too quietly.

Hercules gives him an odd look. “You speak English?”

Gilbert nods and looks at his feet. _Impressions._ He forces himself to meet Hercules’ eyes. “I have been taking a while learning it. I did not want to… um… speak bad in our first meeting. _Zut,_ I have done it.”

“No, no, you’re all good!” Hercules protests. “Seriously, learning English is hard. You’re doing great. Especially for, what, a ten-year-old?”

Gilbert narrows his eyes and feels his shoulders hunch a little. “I am ten, yes. Do not mock my age.”

“Not mocking, compliments only,” Hercules assures him. “Sorry.”

“It is okay.” Gilbert takes a breath, sets his shoulders back, and holds out a hand. “My name is Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette. It is nice to meet you.”

Hercules squints and asks, “Can I just call you Lafayette or something? I don’t wanna sound rude, but I’m bad at names, y’know?”

Gilbert considers. “Well, I’ve been called Gilbert before, but you can say Lafayette if you want.”

“Lafayette it is,” Hercules agrees, and smiles.

When he wakes up, Gilbert has learned three very important things. One, Hercules lives in Ireland. Two, Hercules calling him Lafayette feels _right_ to him. Three, Hercules’ smile could light up the entire world, if he did it more often.

Over his many hours spent talking to Alexander, Gilbert—no, Lafayette—has also learned that John lives in South Carolina, which means that he has to go to sleep super late to even have a chance of catching him in a dream.

So he psychs himself up, steals some of the coffee from the kitchen, and stays up until three in the morning that Saturday. When he finally falls asleep, the tingles come again and he opens his eyes to find John standing there.

“You’re Gilbert, right?” John asks, in perfect French.

Lafayette raises his eyebrows. “Yes, I am,” he replies, in English. “I prefer… Lafayette.”

There’s a beat, and then he and John share a look of, _Seriously?_ for a moment before bursting out laughing. “God,” John wheezes, “did I actually spend almost three years learning French for nothing?”

Lafayette giggles and says, “I believe so. My English is not completely not usable, though—poor Hercules would not know what I was saying at all if I had not learned it.” He shrugs and continues contemplatively, “You should continue learning French. It is a good language. We may have secret conversations that Hercules could not understand.” Lafayette’s eyes sparkle with mischief.

John smiles. “Yeah, that’d be fun.” After a moment, his smile falls and he seems to draw into himself.

“Are you well, John?”

John shrugs. “I guess.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Not—really? But you have to promise not to tell anyone.” Lafayette nods seriously. “I—” John sighs, sounding frustrated. “Have you ever had someone do something that hurt you, but they didn’t really mean for it to hurt you, because they just didn’t know that it would?”

Lafayette thinks immediately of his mother—leaving him for Paris when he was only two, abandoning him to grow up without a mother _or_ a father. “Yes,” he says sincerely.

“Well, my dad’s a real big political guy in America, but he doesn’t think the way that I do. Like…” John trails off, thinking. “Like, soulmates, right? If you share your dreams with someone, you’re soulmates.”

“Yeah,” Lafayette agrees. “Which means that we’re soulmates.”

“Right.” John nods and motions with his hands. “But my dad… my dad wouldn’t like that we’re soulmates, because we’re both boys. And my dad wouldn’t like that fact that I’ve got three soulmates, instead of one.”

Lafayette scrunches up his nose. “That is… um…”

“Stupid?” John offers. “Unreasonable? Antiquated?”

“Stupid,” Lafayette agrees.

“Yeah,” John growls. “My mom’s okay, though. She doesn’t really care.”

“Do not let his talk make you not like us anymore,” Lafayette tells him, but it’s more of a plea. “I would miss you. We would all miss you. Alexander, Hercules, and I.”

John gives a soft smile and nods. “Alright. Thanks, Lafayette.”

 

_v. December 2007_

Hercules is thirteen when he finally meets Alexander. He’s gone so long not seeing him that he almost starts to think that they’re not soulmates—maybe Alexander is only for Laf and John.

He goes to sleep later than usual one night, after staying up with his friends, and when he opens his eyes, a kid he’s never seen before is standing there. He’s a little scrawny, but as soon as Hercules meets his eyes, he knows that that doesn’t matter. There’s a fire in him.

“You’re Alexander, right?” Hercules asks.

The boy nods, a little too sharply. “And you’re Hercules.”

“It’s been so long since I met Laf and John, I was starting to think that we weren’t soulmates,” Hercules says, because Alexander doesn’t look like he’s going to keep talking, and Hercules doesn’t really like silence.

Alexander shrugs. Hercules tilts his head. Something isn’t right here. The boy Laf and John told him about has something to say about _everything._ It’s supposed to be impossible to shut him up. He’s supposed to have a glint in his eye and a bounce in his step. Alexander just looks… tired.

“Are you okay?” Hercules asks. He knows he isn’t.

Alexander shrugs again and mumbles, “A lot’s been going on.”

“What happened?” Hercules tries to meet Alexander’s eyes, but he looks away. “I want to help. We’re soulmates, you know. That’s what soulmates do.”

Alexander scoffs quietly, but he sits down on the ground and motions for Hercules to join him. As soon as Hercules is sitting, he begins in a subdued tone, “I thought that everything was going well, y’know? Like, we could afford rent, Mom got a job, it’s Christmastime.” Hercules smiles gently. He loves Christmas. “Anyway, my dad… my dad left today.”

“Left? Like on a trip?” Hercules asks.

“Left, like never coming back,” Alexander snaps bitterly. Hercules blinks. “It’s just me and my mom and my brother now, and Mom’s already working three jobs. She doesn’t want James to have to get one, but he works down at the docks when she’s not home, anyways.” He shakes his head and stares at his hands. “I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to keep our house.”

Hercules hates that his first thought is, _Were your parents soulmates?_ He doesn’t want to care so much about that, anymore. It’s stupid, anyway. Instead of that, he says, “That sucks. I guess I can’t really understand, because… well, y’know. But I hope that you manage to work things out. The world has a way of fixing things, I think.”

Alexander scoffs again, stands, and offers a hand to Hercules. “Right.” His tone is dry. “Well, I’m gonna go. I gotta get up early and make breakfast.”

Hercules takes Alexander’s hand and hops to his feet. “It was nice to finally meet you, Alexander.”

“You, too, Hercules,” Alexander says, and offers him a smile that he thinks might be genuine. It suits him.

 

_vi. February 2008_

As soon as John sees Alexander, he hugs him. “Hercules told me what happened,” he whispers into his hair.

Alexander pushes him away. “It’s alright. It’s been a while, anyway.”

“It’s only been two months,” John protests.

“I know,” Alexander says, and shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

They don’t talk much after that. John wakes up with tears in his eyes. He doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the day, and his mother isn’t home, so nobody comes to try to get him out. He hates that he cares so much about people who he’s only met in his head. He hates that he can’t ask to go see them. He hates that he can’t help Alexander.

It’s worse now, because once he turned eleven, his dad started asking him if he’d met his soulmate yet. He doesn’t like lying, but he knows that in this case, he would like telling the truth even less. So he tells his dad that, no, he hasn’t met her yet, and yes, he’ll tell him when he does. His mom catches his eye and smiles reassuringly. He thinks he’ll be okay, for now.

In the end, he tells Lafayette about it first. He still remembers their first meeting, so he figures that it wouldn’t hurt.

“Is something wrong, John?” Lafayette asks one night, and John feels his stomach churn.

“I guess so, yeah,” John says. He hesitates, then asks quietly, “You know how I said my dad wouldn’t like you because you’re my soulmate and you’re a boy?”

Lafayette nods. “I thought we both said that was stupid.”

“Yeah, I know, it is, but…” John sighs and fidgets a little. “It’s just… I’m eleven now, and you can meet your soulmate any time, you know? But a lot of people meet when they’re younger, like my mom and dad. So I turned eleven back in October, and I guess my dad decided that that was when I would meet my soulmate, so he keeps asking me who she is.”

“And you do not want to tell him,” Lafayette says.

“Right.” John nods. “Because if he knew that I had three soulmates, and they were all boys, he would… Well, I don’t know what he’d do, but it would be bad. My mom says so.”

Lafayette hums. “I do not know how to help you. My grandma does not ask, but I do not think that she would be very… um… that she would _care_ if she knew. I do not know what to do.”

“It’s alright,” John says, and bumps shoulders with him. “I’m just a little stressed, is all. I can handle it, though. I’ve got my mom, and she helps me with it.” He smiles suddenly. “And when I grow up, I’m gonna go to Nevis and France and Ireland and we’re all gonna see each other for real. And we’ll have a house, and we’ll all live together and be able to talk whenever we want.”

Lafayette nods, smiling too. “That sounds good. Better than good.”

“Awesome,” John supplies.

“Yes. _Awesome.”_

 

_vii. January 2009_

_Happy birthday,_ Alexander thinks bitterly, as he coughs again.

He’s twelve and he thinks he might be dying. He keeps spitting up blood, and his head feels like it’s splitting in two. He doesn’t care, though, because his mom’s worse off, and he’s more worried about her getting better. James is working three jobs now, because they still need to pay rent and Alexander and their mother have been sick for two weeks.

She’s holding him, and he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing for them to be so close together, but he doesn’t think he could lift a finger right now, let alone her arm from around him.

Her breathing’s been shaky for a few days now, so Alexander stays awake to keep an eye on her. He’s usually awake when James gets home.

This time, James slams the door behind himself and crashes against a wall. He slides down to a sitting position, nursing a bottle in his arms. Alexander watches with interest, but his throat is dry and scratchy, and he doesn’t think he’s able to say anything.

James takes a swig from the bottle, shoots a glare in Alexander’s direction. “Fuck you,” he mutters, and drops his head.

Alexander closes his eyes and tries to sleep. It’s uneasy and restless, but he sleeps until the sunrise. When he wakes up, his mother’s warmth is gone, but he can still feel her arms around him.

He looks over to see James standing against the wall, still holding a bottle. He’s watching Alexander with cold eyes.

“James?” he croaks, and winces. James doesn’t answer, just shakes his head. Alexander turns back to his mom. She’s cold. With an immense effort, he reaches a hand up to her chest. She isn’t breathing, either. “Mom!” he tries to shout, but it comes out as a whisper. “Mom!” he tries again.

“She’s dead,” comes James’ tired voice. Alexander turns his head frantically. “Stop moving, you’ll knock her off the bed.”

Alexander stills. “Help me get out?”

James scoffs. He crosses his arms, takes a drink from the bottle. “Do it yourself. Carry your own weight, for once.”

“I can’t,” Alexander says, but the rest of his sentence dies in his throat, and James leaves the room. Alexander tries not to look at his mother’s face.

He doesn’t sleep until late that night.

“Alexander?” asks Hercules, even before he’s opened his eyes.

Alexander doesn’t reply, just stares at his hands. He’s standing. _Why can’t he stand when it matters?_

“Are you okay, man?” Hercules asks, and Alexander finally looks up at him.

“I’m supposed to be dead,” he says softly. Hercules’ eyes widen, but he doesn’t want him to say anything. He doesn’t want to hear it. “I… I should be dead. But I’m not, and my mom is, and this is _wrong.”_

“Jesus Christ, what _happened?”_

“We got sick a couple weeks ago,” Alexander begins, and drops into a sitting position. Hercules sits next to him and folds his hands. They both stare at the ground. “It was bad. Real bad. An epidemic on the island, right? So we got sick. And… and I shouldn’t’ve been the one who made it.” He can’t find any more words, not now.

“Don’t say that,” Hercules says, suddenly fierce. “Don’t you _ever_ say that. You can’t exactly change anything now, and _nobody_ deserves to die. You can’t just…” Hercules throws his hands up. “You can’t just _switch places_ with somebody. You lived, and your mom deserved to live, too, but that didn’t happen, and you can’t just wish that you were in her place. How the hell would she feel about that?”

Alexander doesn’t answer for a long time. He stares at his hands, glances at Hercules occasionally, and is silent. Finally, he says, “I think she would say what you said, but nicer.”

Hercules catches his eye and gives him a peculiar smile. Inexplicably, they both start laughing. “I’m the mom of our group, now?” Hercules asks.

“Yeah,” Alexander agrees. “You need to learn how to be gentler with kids, though.”

Hercules rolls his eyes. They both smile. “Yeah, I’ll work on that.” He’s quiet for a while before he says, “You know, I said the world has a way of fixing things, and I still believe that. Things’ll get better for you, okay?”

Alexander huffs. “Yeah, I’m sure they will,” he says sarcastically. “Because that’s been going _so_ well for me.”

“They will,” Hercules insists, and nudges his shoulder.

Alexander just shrugs. “Thanks, Hercules. But I don’t share your optimism.”

“That’s alright,” Hercules says. “I have enough for both of us.”

 

_viii. April 2009_

Lafayette is eleven when his mother calls him to Paris. He doesn’t want to go. His grandma says that it’ll be fine, that he’ll just spend a few months there and then come home. He doesn’t believe her, but he doesn’t say so. She says she’ll visit.

He’s seen his mother maybe five times since she left him at the age of two, and none of the visits have gone well. It doesn’t help that most of them were at funerals.

He arrives in Paris with a newfound hatred of trains. The ride had been long, cramped, and boring—rolling fields are only scenic for ten minutes before they start to get repetitive. An escort meets him at the station, and he can’t help being bitter that his mother didn’t even bother to make the trip.

His mother’s home is a huge house in the city center, and he hates it. He hates all of the people walking below, and how there’s never a break. He hates that he has to draw his blinds to have privacy. He hates that there’s nothing he can do about it.

He doesn’t see his mother until dinner that night, despite spending hours exploring his new house, poking his head into every room.

“Gilbert,” she says warmly, as he sits down. He hasn’t seen her in a year, but she doesn’t seem to have changed since their last meeting. “It is so nice to have you here,” she continues, in French.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he replies, and he wants to say it in English.

“You have grown so much since I last saw you! You’ll be tall, like your father.” Her voice is still warm, but Lafayette tenses. Nobody has talked much about his father since his death, and he had not expected his mother to be so casual about it. His death was, after all, the reason she’d left him behind in the first place.

“And you do not seem to have aged a day,” Lafayette replies carefully. Flattery is always best in situations like these.

His mother smiles, and they chat, and Lafayette pretends to eat his dinner. He feels like throwing up.

He goes to sleep early that night, because he doesn’t want to be in this house anymore. He doesn’t want to remember that he’s stuck in a city that he’s never been to, with a mother he doesn’t even know. He opens his eyes to see Hercules.

“It is nice to see you,” he says, smiling. It’s a relief to see a familiar face.

“Yeah,” Hercules agrees, and sighs heavily. “Before I ask you what’s on your mind, because I know there’s _something,_ I’d like to tell you that I’m moving.”

“Oh, how, um… how silly? No, it is like… funny. Funny because it is similar to me.”

“Ironic?”

“Yes, that. I have just moved to Paris, to live with my mother.” Lafayette wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like it here.”

Hercules smiles sympathetically. “Well, I’m moving to New York, in America, so I guess that’s neat.”

“America?” Lafayette breathes. “Really? Oh, I wish to go to America.”

“I know,” Hercules says. “You’ve told me many times. It’s just kinda crappy because I’m gonna be leaving all my friends behind, you know? And I’ll be the transfer kid with the weird name and accent and all that.”

“You have a wonderful name and accent,” Lafayette assures him. “It will be okay, I am sure. You are very charming, and you will be in America!”

Hercules just smiles and shakes his head. “Alright, if you say so. Good luck with your mom. I’d give her a chance.”

Lafayette can’t help the cruel sneer. “She’s had a chance every day for the past nine years, and she has not done anything. I do not think she has any more chances left.”

Hercules just shrugs. “All I’m saying is that she might surprise you.”

“I would not… um, what is the word—count on it.”

 

_ix. September 2009_

They move to America a week before Hercules starts high school.

Everyone in New York moves quickly, like they have somewhere to be, and they don’t want to acknowledge other people. Hercules immediately decides that he prefers Ireland. At least there, people treated others like they were human beings.

When he starts school, it’s nice to realize that at least the schools aren’t all that different from Ireland’s, and the kids aren’t all terrible, either.

He doesn’t really know if he’s made friends yet, but there are kids with far weirder traits than an accent at his school. He doesn’t feel so left out.

He turns fifteen and kisses a girl named Elizabeth, and doesn’t tell Alex, Laf, or John. He doesn’t need to. They don’t own him, and they’re not his responsibility. Besides, they’re all guys, and there are three of them. That just… doesn’t happen. So he kisses Elizabeth again and tells her he loves her and doesn’t think about soulmates.

He builds a life for himself in America, and learns to take measurements and sew. He still talks to the others sometimes, but they’re not really part of his real life. He convinces himself that he doesn’t want them to be.

 

_x. April 2010_

Lafayette is twelve when his mother dies. It’s abrupt and impersonal, and he’s told a day after it happens. A car crash, they tell him. He’s used to her not being home. He’s used to her being gone for days at a time. He still tells himself that he should have known something was wrong.

He stays at the house, alone, for a long time. He doesn’t want to leave, which is weird. He spent two years hating the place, and now that his mother is gone, it’s the only place he wants to be.

He sees Alexander two weeks after the crash.

“You look lost,” Alexander tells him.

“I think I am,” Lafayette says. “Do you think our mothers will meet in heaven?”

Alexander is quiet for a while, processing his words. “I don’t think my mother believed in heaven.” A pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lafayette shrugs. “It was a car crash. I’m not sure what to do. I do not want to leave home, but I know that living by myself is not right.”

Alexander thinks for a long time. “Do you have anyone close to you who might take you in? I’m living with a cousin.”

Lafayette bites his lip, then says, “I might be able to ask my friend Adrienne. Do you think she would do it?”

“If she’s your friend, she’ll at least try.”

When he wakes up, Lafayette gets dressed for the first time in days, packs his bags, and calls Adrienne. They talk for a bit, and he eventually works up the nerve to ask her. She’s devastated for him at first. Of course she’s heard about his mother’s death, but she thought that he was in better hands. It doesn’t take much convincing before her parents agree to let him stay.

They pick him up that afternoon and he finds himself a new home.

 

_xi. September 2010_

Alexander goes to school now, which is fun. Nobody else seems to think it’s fun, but he’s just glad that he’s being taught something. He doesn’t need a job, either, because Peter has one, and it pays better than James’ used to, so James doesn’t have to work anymore, either.

Alexander is beginning to think that maybe Hercules is right. Maybe the world does have a way of fixing things. Or, at the very least, turning things around.

It’s a sunny Wednesday, and he’s on his way home from school, kicking at pebbles and wondering if he’ll see John or Lafayette soon. He thinks a little bit about Hercules, but he’s been distant lately and Alexander hasn’t seen him since he moved to New York. It’s odd—even though he still talks to John and Lafayette, as long as Hercules is avoiding them, Alexander feels almost _incomplete._

He can’t decide if that’s a good or a bad thing.

He pulls the door to Peter’s apartment open, calls out a greeting and gets no response.

 _It’s not all that strange,_ he tells himself, but he still drops his bag and doesn’t bother to take off his shoes before entering the living room. He searches the whole house before peeking into Peter’s room. His hand slides from the door handle and he stands there for a moment, staring. Processing. The door creaks on its hinges as it slowly drifts open.

Peter is hanging from the ceiling fan by a rope. If Alexander looks closer, he can make out his blue lips and white eyes. He feels sick to his stomach, but he doesn’t throw up. He just stands there, trying to comprehend.

James comes home not long after, and when he sees Peter, he puts a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. Alexander rips his gaze from his cousin to look at James. James just shakes his head. They’re both thinking the same thing. _Where to now?_

Alexander falls asleep uneasily, and for once, the familiar tingling sensation isn’t welcome. He opens his eyes to see Hercules, surprisingly enough. They stare at each other for a while, and Alexander tries to understand the contempt in Hercules’ gaze. Finally, he says, “You were wrong.”

“I was wrong?” Hercules asks, sounding disinterested.

“Yeah,” Alexander says coldly, because he knows this game, and he plays it well. “One of my soulmates has no family left and is stuck staying with a family friend, one of my soulmates is afraid to even see me because of his asshole dad, one of my soulmates is avoiding the rest of us, and my legal guardian just hung himself from the ceiling fan. Tell me, how is that the world fixing anything?”

Hercules’ expression doesn’t shift. “First of all, all of our lives fucking suck. Complaining to me—”

“Yours doesn’t!” Alexander snaps. “You live in New York City with your soulmate parents and you go to high school and you had enough money to move to America and you’re on track for college! You don’t get to act like you don’t give a shit, because you have no idea what it’s like for the rest of us.”

That shuts Hercules up. He narrows his eyes. “You’re still not my responsibility,” he says.

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right, we’re not. But we’re your soulmates, and that’s gotta count for something.” Alexander holds Hercules’ gaze, doesn’t let him look away. “Weren’t you the one that told me that soulmates help each other _because_ they’re soulmates?”

Hercules manages to break eye contact and look at the ground. “That was a long time ago. But I remember that.”

“Good,” Alexander says, and heaves a sigh. “I need sleep. Goodnight, Hercules. I’ll see you around.”

“’Night, Alex,” Hercules says, and Alexander doesn’t even have the time to correct him on his name before the dream is dissolving.

Alexander and James end up being split up. James goes to live with a local carpenter, while Alexander is taken in by the local grocer and offered a job. He and his brother see each other around sometimes, but Alexander is usually either working or reading, and he doesn’t have time for friends or family, anymore.

 

_xii. May 2011_

John’s mother has cancer. He knows that. He’s known that for a long time. He’s never told anyone about it, and never planned to, least of all his soulmates. He had sort of hoped that if he didn’t say it out loud, it would just go away.

But the doctors say chemo isn’t working, and John doesn’t know what to do about it. He can’t lose his mother, not now. Not when he’s still learning about himself, and he’s still learning about Alexander and Lafayette and Hercules. Not when he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to.

She sits him down one day, taking him by the shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Jack,” she says, and he nods. She’s as serious as she was all those years ago, when he first told her about his soulmates. “We both know what’s happening, so I need you to listen. When I’m not here, you need to take care of your siblings. And remember that your father is a good man. Can you do that for me? Taking care of all of you will be stressful, but he’s a good person. Never forget that.”

John nods. “I know.”

“And you need to remember—”

“I can’t tell him about my soulmates,” he finishes for her. “I know. I’ll do my best.” He salutes, but it doesn’t have nearly as much energy behind it as it used to.

“I love you, Jacky,” she tells him, and pulls him into a crushing hug. Tears prick at his eyes.

His mother dies in late May, on a sunny afternoon, with John sitting next to her. He doesn’t cry when her heartbeat goes flat, just looks up from the book he’s reading her and watches the line go. He feels a little bit numb, but it doesn’t really matter, because he can lock himself in his room and forget. It’s better if he can’t feel anything, anyway. Right?

It doesn’t take long before his sleep schedule is shot to hell, so it comes as no surprise to him when he opens his eyes to see Lafayette. “You are not alright,” Lafayette says immediately, and John just shakes his head and lets himself be held.

He thinks it’s a little bit cruel that the universe has decided to stick them all together like this. The universe thinks it has the right to ruin all these kids’ lives and then smash them together, like it’s playing some sort of game. It occurs to him that it would probably be crueller if they had to suffer alone. He hates this.

It’s June when his father tells him that he’s going to school in London. He can’t decide if he should be excited or terrified, so he just settles on regretful. After all, he can’t take care of his siblings if he’s an entire ocean away.

 

_xiii. January 2012_

Hercules wants to feel bad about breaking up with Elizabeth. He can’t.

He hates that Alex has such a profound effect on him, that the scrawny kid from the Caribbean can speak so eloquently and bluntly that Hercules has no defense. So he does it for Alex and John and Laf, because his conscience is back in the form of Alexander Hamilton.

That, and he’s busy. Too busy for everything that Elizabeth wants to do. He’s looking for colleges, interning in a tailor’s shop, and trying to keep up with school on the side. So many tests, so many expectations. He’s tired.

He eventually applies to Columbia and NYU, because they’re close and well-regarded. He gets accepted to both and chooses Columbia. It’s exhilarating, and Alex thinks so, too.

“You know, I think I’d like either Princeton or Columbia,” Alex says one night, shrugging. “I’d like to graduate early, you know? And I feel like they’d be willing to do it for me.”

Hercules raises an eyebrow. “I mean, no, I don’t know, because I can’t imagine anyone wanting that kind of workload, but okay. Any idea what you’d want to study?”

Alex hums. “PoliSci or law. I want to run for some sort of office sometime. Or work with someone who does.”

Hercules nods slowly. “And you want to do this in America?”

Alex’s face falls. “Yeah, I know. Citizenship and all that. I dunno, I’m just… I can dream, right?”

“Right.” Hercules pushes his shoulder gently. “Hey, if there’s anyone I know who could make that work, it’s you.”

Alex gives him a crooked smile and says, “Well, good, because that’s my plan.”

Hercules is looking forward to college just a little bit more.

 

_xiv. October 2012_

John meets Francis in his second year in London. Francis is new to the school, so when John is the only other person sitting alone at lunch, he takes the opportunity and sits with him.

Francis has raven black hair and ice blue eyes, and John would feel bad about thinking he was hot if he wasn’t so busy being lovestruck. He and Francis sneak out to the roof some nights, and John will kiss him right there, because there’s no one to see except the stars. He doesn’t say anything to his soulmates, but he knows that they can tell something’s up.

“You look happier than normal,” Alexander says one day. John sometimes forgets that he’s all the way across the Atlantic, because he’s so often asleep at the same time as John. John keeps telling him to keep a better sleep schedule.

John just hums. He doesn’t want to tell him. He’d feel bad about it, for one. It’s like he’s cheating, or something. For two, Francis doesn’t change the fact that he does find all of his soulmates unreasonably attractive. He just… can’t really do anything about it while they’re all on opposite ends of the globe.

“I hope that whatever’s causing this lasts,” Alexander tells him earnestly. “You deserve to be happy, after all the shit you’ve gone through.”

“You’re saying that to me?” John asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “Alexander, your life has sucked _way_ more than mine. I think you’re the one who deserves a break.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really getting one,” Alexander says, rolling his eyes. “I still work for most of the day and spend the other half reading whatever I can. I need to be able to go to college, you know? And I can’t do that without money and an education.”

John tilts his head. “How’re you planning on taking the ACT?”

“We have a high school on the island that I can take it through,” Alexander says. “I just don’t have time to attend. But I’ve read enough to know what I’m doing, so I just have to have the money to actually take the test.”

John nods. “Well, good luck. I’m taking the ACT next year, and I’m kinda terrified. I’ve been thinking, we should all go to Columbia, you know? Because then we can all see each other regularly, in person. And maybe two of us can share a dorm. And it’s a great school, too.”

Alexander nods. “That sounds like a good idea. And we all know how much Lafayette loves America.”

John holds up a hand. “Wait. Sidetrack: do you ever talk to Hercules about Lafayette?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever noticed that he calls Lafayette ‘Laf’?”

Alexander nods and says, “He calls me Alex. It’s kinda weird, but like… a good weird. I’ve just never had my name shortened before.”

“I’ll ask Lafayette about the Laf thing,” John decides. “Can I call you Alex?”

Alexander shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Alex it is.”

When John sees Francis the next day, the first thing that pops into his mind is Alex. He’s not sure how to feel about it.

 

_xv. August 2014_

Alex thinks he’s doing well, for once. He took the ACT last year and the score came back as a 34. He’s saved for college and got accepted to Columbia with a near-full-ride scholarship and an agreement that he can take the three year graduation path. Everything is going well, and all he has to worry about is scheduling a plane ticket.

He’s even a year ahead of his plan, which is awesome. He’s flying out on August 31st, which gives him a day to pack up everything. It’s not hard—all he has is a photo of him, his brother, his father, and his mom, his clothes, and a few books. He has enough money in store to buy a laptop once he gets to America, too, so he should be prepared for college. He hopes.

It’s been raining all day, but he’s been able to ignore it while packing. At about ten o’clock, however, it really picks up. He’s waiting anxiously in his room, his bags packed, writing in his notebook. Writing about the future. Writing about his hopes. Writing about who he wants to be.

He’s too absorbed in his writing to be concerned about the rain, until his window slams open from the force of the wind, and water comes pouring through, over his notebook paper. He jumps and scrambles back from his desk, panting and watching the wind and rain shriek past the open pane.

He makes a split-second decision, throws open his suitcase, and pulls his passport, ID, bank card, plane ticket, and the photograph from it. He throws on a jacket and stashes the items in the inside pockets, then hurries out of his room.

Thomas Stevens, the grocer who took him in, is standing in the foyer, looking worried.

“This is a big storm,” Alex says, watching the lightning flash and hearing the thunder crack in its wake.

“It’s looking like a hurricane,” says Stevens.

“Shit,” Alex breathes, and watches the lightning illuminate the rain again. “D’you think we’ll be okay?”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Stevens assures him. “We have a cellar that we can go to, if we really need. I’m just worried about other people.”

 _Other people._ “James,” Alex breathes, and suddenly his feet are moving without his accord. He dashes for the door and pulls it open.

“Alexander, what are you doing?” Stevens calls, frantic.

“I gotta find my brother!” Alex shouts back, and slams the door behind him.

As soon as he steps outside, the rain drives hard into his back and the wind nearly whips him off of his feet. He staggers forward, trying not to fall over. Lightning flashes again, lighting up a huge, detached tree branch just as it flies towards him. He ducks, losing his balance, and falls to the side with a shout.

He drags himself up the street and takes refuge behind a brick wall, pulling himself into a standing position. The rain is still pounding on his shoulders, but at least he isn’t on the verge of being blown over anymore.

He conjures a mental map of the town in his mind’s eye, and sets off down the alley. He starts a sprint across the next main street when he comes to it, but he stops when he hears shouting. He glances skyward when lightning flashes, and sees a roof go flying. He feels a scream rip from his throat, but he can’t hear it over the wind. He continues running.

By the time he gets to the James’ house, he’s battered and rainswept, but he’s made it. He pounds on the door and shouts. It opens after a moment or two, revealing James, whose expression morphs from concerned to horrified as soon as he sees Alex.

He pulls him inside and slams the door shut, wrapping his arms around his brother. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Alex balls his fists into James’ shirt. “I needed to make sure that you were okay.”

“So you just, what, ran here?” James asks, and Alex nods. “What the fuck, Alex? I’m fine.”

“I know that _now,”_ Alex says. “It’s like hell out there.”

“We should get to the cellar,” James tells him. “C’mon, less hugging, more staying alive.”

Alex nods and pulls away. He lets himself be led into the basement. “This just kind of blows,” he says, as James closes the cellar door behind them. “Cause like, I’m supposed to fly out tomorrow, you know? And now I’m not even sure that the airport’s still gonna be standing.”

James nods. “Yeah, that sucks. Congrats, by the way. I don’t think I ever got to tell you that. I hope this storm moves out soon.”

Alex sighs softly. “Yeah.”

They’re quiet for a while before Alex asks, “Did I ever tell you why I wanted to go to Columbia?”

“No, I just assumed that it was a good school,” James says.

“Two of my soulmates are going there,” Alex tells him, softly. He feels himself smile, despite the rain and the thunder and the destruction outside. “One’s name is Hercules, and the other’s name is John. John’s supposed to start school this year, so I wanted to be there, too. It was going to be perfect.”

Alex has never told him about his soulmates before, but James doesn’t even react to the information. He just shrugs and says, “It can still be perfect. Don’t get yourself down. You’ll figure it out.”

Alex nods and crosses his arms. And then there’s a huge _crack,_ and Alex hears the rain pounding on the ground above. James’ gaze flits upwards, and Alex thinks he catches a glimpse of terror in his brother’s eyes.

By silent, mutual agreement, the brothers slowly make their way to the cellar door and peek out.

One wall of the house has been torn away, along with the roof and all of the doors. Alex stares in silent awe as more chunks of wood and shrapnel are carried away into the sky. Somebody’s wailing, and he thinks there’s a tree lying on the street just a few feet in front of him. Lightning tells him that it’s not a tree. It’s the body of a woman, her eyes and mouth stretched so wide that he can look down her throat. She’s not moving.

Alex listens to the screams in the distance and lets the rain pound on his face. Lightning flashes again, and he studies the woman’s face. _This_ is hell.

 

_xvi. July 2015_

Lafayette is going to America. After years of waiting, he’s finally going.

He applied to Columbia, like John suggested, and he can’t wait to see what it’s like. Adrienne is staying in France, but she sees him off at the airport, kissing both his cheeks and wishing him well.

He can’t sleep for the entire plane ride, because he’s _finally_ going to America and he’s going to stay with Hercules and his family, and in August he’s going to meet John and Alexander. It just feels so _right._

All of them had been disappointed when Alexander was delayed in getting to America, because the hurricane had destroyed almost everything on the island. He had no means to get to the mainland, so his college path had been pushed back a year. Lafayette, John, and Hercules have all been subjects to impassioned rants on the subject.

Lafayette is just happy that they’re all finally going to be in one place.

When his plane lands, he has to resist the urge to clap with excitement. He gets off as quickly as possible, collects his luggage, and heads for the exit. It’s two in the morning when he finally gets out of the airport, but Hercules, true to his word, is waiting just outside security.

Lafayette stops dead when his gaze lands on Hercules. “Hercules!” he shouts, and begins running.

Hercules catches him in a hug that lifts him off of the ground, and Lafayette kisses his cheeks. He buries his face in Hercules’ shoulder and laughs. They pull apart after a while and just examine one another. Hercules is even better looking in person, Lafayette decides, even though that’s stupid, because the only difference is that this isn’t a dream. He can’t really find it in himself to care about that, because _Hercules is right there._

“I have waited so long for this,” Lafayette tells him.

Hercules just smiles and pulls him in for another hug. “God, me, too. John’s gonna be sorry he missed this.”

Lafayette laughs again and balls his hands into Hercules’ shirt. He never wants to let go. He does say, eventually, “I could not sleep for the whole plane ride, so we should go home.”

Hercules pulls back again and nods, biting his lip like he’s about to cry. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

 

_xvii. August 2015_

Hercules has never been as happy as when John gets back to Columbia.

Meeting John and Laf in the first place are definitely close seconds, but _this._

He watches them both break out into disbelieving smiles, John whisper something in French, and Laf reply with a choked, “Yeah.” Hercules pulls them into a group hug after that, and they all laugh happily.

That’s all blown out of the water when Alex gets there, though. He steps out of airport security without a single bag. John’s the one who spots him first, and suddenly the three of them swamp him, shouting and laughing. Laf is crying.

They all head to Alex’s dorm after that, because even though the semester starts in barely a week, none of them have moved in yet.

It’s when they’re sitting around, John and Alex on Alex’s bed and Lafayette and Hercules leaning against his roommate’s, that Hercules realizes that he’s in love with them. All of them. It comes out of the blue—he’s just watching Alex lean in to whisper something to John when it hits him. He glances down at Laf, who is pressed against his side, and thinks, _Shit, I’m in love._

Laf looks up at him, expression going from humorous to curious to—and then Laf kisses him. He thinks Alex and John have stopped talking, but he’s too busy burying his hands in Laf’s hair and pulling him closer to really care.

They break the kiss and they’re both grinning like idiots. Someone wolf-whistles, and Hercules looks over to see Alex punch John in the arm.

“I have to apologize,” Alex says, and offers him a lopsided smile. “You were right.”

“I was?” Hercules asks, not following.

“Yeah,” Alex says, nodding. “The world has a way of fixing things, in the end.”

Hercules smiles slowly and shakes his head. “That is maybe the cheesiest goddamn thing you could’ve said to me right now.”

Alex laughs and buries his head in John’s chest, and Laf tackles Hercules in another hug.

They all end up on the floor somehow, piled on top of each other. Hercules is messing with John’s hair when he says quietly, “I hope this isn’t the end.”

“What?” John asks.

“Alex,” Hercules clarifies, and glances around to see him sitting on Laf’s legs. “You said that the world fixes things, in the end.” Alex nods. “But I don’t think this is the end. I think this is the beginning.”


End file.
